When the Whistle Blows
by A. Lynne
Summary: [Miracle] When Jack O'Callahan comes down with a fever before the Norway game, he (even with the persistence of his friends) won't call it quits until he falls down. [Complete]
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **When the Whistle Blows

**Author: **A. Lynne

**Rating: **PG-13

**Feedback: **Yes – please! :)

**Fandom: **Movie - Miracle

**Summary: **When Jack O'Callahan comes down with a fever before the Norway game, he – even with the persistence of his friends – won't call it quits until he falls down.

**Characters: **Jack O'Callahan, Mike Eruzione, Jim Craig, Herb Brooks, Coach Patrick, Doc., and other misc. USA team members

**Date Posted: **8-4-04

**Disclaimer: **I do **_not _**own any of these people, nor the "Miracle" concept. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent of profit.

**A/N: **This is my very first fanfiction for the movie **Miracle**- and I'm excited to write it. There will be no girl/boy relationships going on, nor any "lemons" [or what ever you guys like to call it. I'll be updating as much as possible!

Oh, yeah – and I ought to let you know – I've used some of the quotes from the movie. You'll know when there is a star [] next to it.

Ex: "You guys don't want to work during a game? No problem. We'll work now. Goal line – that one!"

I'd also like to tell you that anything that is in parentheses, and in italics, are thoughts.

Ex: _[This is gonna be one hell of a game]_

Alright – you can get on to the story now :)

**Chapter 1**

_**Part 1**_

"Hey, O.C.," Mike said, walking up the young man leaning up against his locker, "You alright?"

O.C.'s face turned immediately to stone. He was never one to either show or open up to what he was feeling, "Fine, Rizzo."

"You don't look too hot," Mike argued. O.C.'s features were already pale and sweaty; his breathing shallow and rapid, "Maybe you should sit the game out? I'll tell coach for you…"

"I'm fine, Mike." He said forcibly and standing upright. Jack picked up his jersey from the bench and quickly fit it over his head; pulling it onto his body.

Jim Craig watched from across the room, not normally intent on listening into other's conversations, but couldn't help but overhear. He walked over to the two bickering players.

"Just take it easy tonight, O.C. Coach'll understand –"

"You're not my mother, Craig! I'm capable of –"

"I don't care what you're capable of, _Jack_," Jim said seriously, "Just don't expect us to come and lift you up when you collapse." And with that, he grabbed his goalie stick, and walked out from the room.

"Yeah, well," O.C. called after him, "don't come cryin' to us when you get hit in the face with a hockey puck…again!" Taking his hockey stick from the nearest wall, Jack sighed and left.

Mike, the only one left in the locker room, groaned.

_[This is gonna be one hell of a game.]_

**_Part 2_**

"You guys don't wanna work during a game? No problem, we'll work now."

Coach said, obviously disgusted with the team, "Goal line. That one!"

O.C.'s face dripped with sweat, _[not now]_…He could feel his body raging, not only with the heat from after the game, but also from his newly acquired fever. Still not able to catch his breath, Jack prayed to the Lord that this would be quick and simple so he could go to his room and crumble with exhaustion.

His teammates groaned and slammed their sticks to the ice with anger and frustration. He knew he wasn't the only one with his stomach sinking.

Once everyone was at the goal line, Herb nodded his head, Patrick blew the whistle – and they skated.

It only took a few rounds for everyone to be panting and bent over, trying to catch their breath. But Jack, leaning on his hockey stick, coughed and wheezed. The air didn't seem to come in fast enough for his body to be satisfied.

"Again!" Whistle. Skate.

"Again!" Whistle. Skate.

"Again!" Whistle. Skate.

O.C., just on the brink of collapsing, shut his eyes tight. _[breath!] _He told himself _[just breath!]_. After preparing himself for another round, he quickly opened his eyes. Did he miss the whistle? Was the he that much closer to insanity?

But, instead, he watched as Doc quickly pace over to Brooks. Almost too thankful for the moments rest, he shut his eyes again.

"…rink manager…clean…wants to leave…"

"…lock up…again!"

He only heard snaps of the conversation over his abnormally loud pants, but was able to fully understand what was going on.

_[oh, no] _O.C. opened his eyes and saw Patrick blow the whistle _[damn it!]_

But he skated – just in spite of himself being on the team [although he could really care less at the moment], and his reputation.

"…keep playing this way…won't beat anybody…"

O.C. couldn't take it as he, and several others, collapsed onto the blue line.

"Again!"

_[no, please]_

Taking up as much strength as he could muster, Jack pulled himself up with his faithful hockey stick, yet still could not open his eyes.

But just before the whistle, he heard an echoing 'bang' around the stadium.

_…Maybe someone had shot Coach??_

"Oh, thank God," He heard.

_Yeah. Maybe someone did…_

"Maybe we can get out of here?" Someone said to his left.

Upon hearing those words, Jack opened his eyes. It was dark – almost pitch black. But just before he could move, as all the others were, Brooks called out,

"Where you going?...on the line!"

O.C. knew he couldn't have gotten away that easily, although in his partially delusional mind – he couldn't help but wish. Still wheezing, he waited for the long-hated whistle to blow.

_"Again!"_

_"Again!"_

Each time getting weaker and weaker, closer and closer to hitting the ground and not getting up…

"…first to quit? – you O.C.?...ready to go down?"

_[…almost…]___

"Send them. Again!"

Only making it halfway through, this time, Jack's vision swam, black spots rimmed around his eyes, and he could feel himself falling…

There was silence.

-Well, aside from the panting back on the goal line. O.C. was sure everyone had gotten back but him…

"…looks like…first quitter, boys."

_[not a quitter…!]_

"Not-" _Wheeze "_A quitter!" He heard Rizzo yell back, "He's" _Pant "_Sick!"

O.C. heard quick footsteps coming towards him, but they were stopped short by Coach's booming voice,

"…fine, Doc!...can get up…his own!" The footsteps, almost seemingly regretful, receded.

"Again!" A Pause. "_Again_!"

The whistle blew.

He heard skates pass him, but faintly, only because more than half of his hearing was taken up by the wet coughs and gasps that he, himself, was making.

Jack tried so hard that tears almost came to his eyes, to just even move his leg, however even that fell short. But suddenly, he felt a pair of hands on his shoulders that turned him onto his back.

"Eruzione!...back on…damned line!"

Rizzo, clearly not paying attention to his Coach, gently started talking to O.C.

"…'C…hear me, bud?"

_[yes – I can…]_

"Doc!...think…passed out!"

_[no – I' m fine…] _Pulling his wits together, O.C. cracked open his eyes.

"Mi –" He tried saying, but was surprised was it came out barely audible and as a harsh rasp.

"…buddy. Doc's comin'…alright?"

" 'nt," _Wheeze _"Breath,"

"Just hold on…be just fine," Another set of footsteps came rushing towards him.

"Jack?" He heard. _Doc_. Looking at him through the slits of his eyes, he saw worry playing on the man's face.

"Jack?...-ear me?" His vision was swirling again, and a continuous 'beep' persisted in his ears.

"…Jack?"

"Listen to me!...O.C…"

There were suddenly two Doc's above him. Since when did he have a twin?...

He abruptly couldn't feel his legs, and the numbness continued to travel up his body, seemingly engulfing everything that stood in its path.

"…O.C.!..."

_[…help]_

And with one last blink of his eyes, Jack O'Callahan's world was covered in a blanket of darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Date Posted: **8-14-04

**Disclaimer: **I do **_not _**own any of these people, nor the "Miracle" concept. I am very respectfully borrowing them with no intent of profit.

**A/N: **Wow! Thank you to all who have reviewed! I **very** much appreciate it!! :)

-

**Christina**– _Awesome job…I like how you decided to do one of the players instead of relationships…_

Thank you! I must admit, that I'm not much of a great writer when it comes to those types of fictions where an original female character is put in, but I'm willing to write anything, I s'pose!...Thank you again, though! :)

**Kellie** - …_I heard that when the real __U.S.__ hockey team had to do Herbies one time Mark Johnson got so mad that he took his hockey stick and slammed it against the glass wall. Maybe you could put that in your story or not, thats fine. I just wanted to give you that information._

Yes, I remember hearing that on one of the extra options on the DVD of Miracle. But, you know what?...You just gave me a good idea!! Thank you! :)

Also thanks to: **Darkdestiney2000**, **Mark of CTown**, **scorpio111**, **Jenny**,** Racer38**!

**A/A/N **– [another author's note] – Thanx to **Kellie** for giving me an idea for this chapter! Mucho huggies! :-D

**_

* * *

_**

When Mike Eruzione reached the goal line, he knew that someone had not made it back with the team. It was almost as if he could hear 1 less pair of skates, 1 less ragged draw of breath.

He closed his eyes.

Everything in his body was blazing with heat. Mike's heart pounded furiously in his chest; his lungs hammered against his rib cage trying to draw as much air in as possible.

"Looks like we've gotten ourselves our first quitter, boys." Coach called, almost as if he was mocking the team. Mike shook his head and squinted, trying to see who the figure was that lay motionless on the ice…

**_O'Callahan_****__**

**_17_**

_[shit, O.C…get up] _But the boy did not move. Mike looked around frantically, seeing if anyone besides him would defend the sick player. Seeing that all his teammates were concentrated on just catching their breath, Mike shouted out to the Coach.

"Not," _Wheeze_, "A quitter!" Mike flinched as Coach's cold gaze fell upon him, "He's," _Pant_ "Sick!"

But Herb broke his gaze when, out of the corner of his eye, saw Doc rushing towards the fallen player.

"Jack's fine, Doc!" Herb yelled, "He's old enough to get up on his own," Doc almost gawked at his behavior, but nodded slowly and walked, with his head down, back to where he originally stood.

"Again!" Coach said. Patrick's eyes never left their coach, while his fingers fidgeted with the whistle in his hand, "_Again_!"

Mike forcefully pulled one foot in front of the other; but this time, he had no intention of skating back to the goal line. Sliding next to the still player, he placed his hands on O.C.'s shoulder; turning him on his back.

He was immediately greeted with a slack face and closed eyes.

"Eruzione!" Mike flinched again at Coach's furious shout, "Get back on that damned goal line!"

Ignoring the sinking pit in his stomach, Mike whispered, "Hey, O.C…can you hear me, bud?"

Rizzo's heart thumped widely in his chest as he looked for any signs that O.C. might have heard him. He looked over his shoulder to Doc, who was standing; worriedly, "Doc! I think he's passed out!"

_[Wake up, O.C.] _He stared at his friend's face for only moments, when he saw O.C.'s eyes flicker.

"Mike," O.C. rasped. Rizzo nodded,

"It's alright, buddy. Doc's comin', alright?"

Mike made a small wince as Jack wheezed for breath, " 'nt…breathe,"

"Just hold on, everything will be fine," He looked over his shoulder to see Doc running over with his medical bag. Doc dropped down beside them, placing a hand on O.C.'s shoulder,

"Jack?"

Mike studied O.C.'s face with worry as his eyes started to slowly close,

"Jack, can you hear me?" Doc persisted, "Jack?"

"O.C.!" He tried, "Listen to me! C'mon buddy, stay awake," Dread was filling Mike with full force; he felt lightheaded and his hands shook with concern, "O.C.!"

For one fleeting second, Mike saw panic in O.C.'s gaze, but then…his eyes closed.

"Again!" He heard from across the ice rink.

_[Are you kidding me?] _Rizzo thought to himself. But he was going to stay put with his friend.

"Blow the whistle, Craig!"

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Mark Johnson slam his hockey stick into the boards, "No!"

All eyes turned to the furious boy. There was a pause before Coach spoke softly,

"…What did you say, Johnson?"

"No!" He repeated, holding his broken stick in a tense grasp, "…I – " He paused, briefly closing his eyes, "I won't,"

Herb nodded, making eye contact with the all boys who looked back at him, before walking across the ice, and out the door.

Mark sighed, dropping to the ice and placed his head in his hands.

Mike turned his attention back to O.C., whose head was turning back and fourth – eyes now faintly open, but dull and glazed. Doc had already written down, on a pad of paper in his hand, numbers with various meanings.

"What's wrong with him?" Mike asked with fret, staring

"He's showing signs of heat exhaustion. His pulse is rapid and weak," Doc studied O.C.'s face carefully, "He has an incredibly high fever…"

"He wasn't feelin' that good before the game."

"Yes, that was what I anticipated. We're not going to bring him to the hospital immediately – but if he gets any worse…I'm going to have to say – he'll probably miss a game or two…"

Mike nodded.

* * *

It had been exactly an hour after Mike watched O.C. collapse, and since he had been moved by Doc and Coach Patrick to the Med. Room. Rizzo watched as his friend was disrobed and placed onto the cool, metal cot in the center of the space. O.C. had awoken half-way during the process; alert and attentive to the things going on around him, yet he did not speak. 

After being covered with a white sheet, dosed with cool compresses, given dreadful tasting salt beverages, having his feet elevated, and spoken to like a 3 year old, O.C. was as good as ready to sleep. He felt embarrassed and exposed, and since he never had felt like this before, O.C. just let the others fuss over his body and argue how to assist the situation.

Now Mike sat at his bedside with dark circles splashed under his eyes. Placing his head on his elbow, which was positioned on the cot, he stared into space, thinking.

"You know, you don't have to stay here," O.C. said, breaking the almost uncomfortable silence. He didn't glance towards Rizzo, but instead, kept his eyes locked to the ceiling.

Mike sat up straight, looking to his friend, "What makes you think that?"

O.C. shrugged.

Again, the two teammates were left with nothing to say, and the silence covered them both awkwardly. Jack sighed, finally looking at his drowsy friend,

"Thanks for today,"

"You don't need to thank me, O.C. –"

"Rizzo, yes, I do. Just…," O.C. sighed again, "I just appreciate it, alright?"

"Yeah," Mike smiled.

"You can go now, if you want,"

"Nah, it's fine. There's an empty cot over here…besides, I missed my ride home with Craig,"

"…Oh,"

Mike nodded slowly, "But…I think I'm gonna go to bed. You gonna be okay?"

"I told you, I'm fine,"

"That's what you said last time," Mike smiled. O.C. laughed,

"Of course I did,"

"So?"

"So?" O.C. repeated, "This time I just have to make sure Craig gets hit in the head with a hockey puck,"

**Fin.**

--

**Author's Note**: Wow – this chapter was incredibly hard to write. I kept getting writer's block, and all that. I was actually expecting to be this multi-chapter story, but I was blank with ideas!

But anyway, thank you all _so much _who reviewed – I am so thankful for you wonderful people! :) Keep looking for another story about O.C., alright? I'll be posting on soon!...If you'd like to give me ideas, I'll certainly think about the plot – because I don't have one at the moment! :)


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